A Serpent in the Dyrwood
by Dreamslippers
Summary: An animancy project gone wrong sends a mercenary drifting across the Reach, on the hunt for the Leaden Key. A worried guide gets dragged into a clandestine war that may just kill them all; if Cilant Lis was a portent of the things to come. Eder plans for a revolt. (Watcher/Calisca) (Eder/Elafa) more pairs on the way. Sporadic edits to fit the story better!
1. Prologue- Dreaming's End

**A Serpent in The Dyrwood**

**Prologue - Dreaming's End**

The life of luxury and wine, of fabrics made of fine Vailian dyes, had made it all too hard to see how things sour when the cards were up.  
A philosophical Tacan would say that this is the nature of things; especially to one so blinded by vanity.

Mother's vengeance from far Deadfire had brought them riches and titles in the island city of Spirento- a place far from her native plains in the north. In the island city she became a merchant of sorts; a trader in whispers and tales along with other wares.

He had asked her why they could not live in the plains once, and she could only reply with her small sad smile. Her's was a shade of grey, a haunting hollow that rose underneath the lines of red. To her she gave him wit and blade, had hired tutors for knowledge and court.

He could not say when exactly had his mind become as open as it was. He did not question it when he could so easily win at cards or when he could goad his bullies of their dirty secrets. To him their minds betrayed their silence, honeyed words could not cover the colours of envy and filth.

It is true that respect and the immunity from prejudice were things that cannot be bought, a lesson beaten early to the boy in bruises and cuts when their pride overrode reason.

Fortunate then that his mother's old friend had caught him red-handed at this- the wizened Calbandran's mind was a wall before him despite his hunched greying figure. Shiphunters or Ciphers were they, known in the Republics for their abilities to track people along with other useful mental abilities.

A boy's first lesson in psionics that would guide him through the maze like bickerings of the nobility's mercantile rabble.

But Vailian nobility is fickle. With sharpened mind he had learned to play the game well; with pride did he succeed and respect had been earned, be it grudgingly.

There were trades of shiny metal and curious stone. Invests of goods, of ideas; with the most controversial of them all being a study:

Animancy. That which sees the matters of essences and souls. Animancers had produced new marvels while altering the schools of thought in the engineering of essences, all the while spawning new tragedies and horrors among the desperate and the foolish.

All of these were played under the duc's watchful gaze it paved the way for progress that in turn, brought in more trade, gold, and adra.

Such is Vailian virtue.

And that very same greed would bring a Republic to its knees.

Across the sea he remembers the words of the crone, the Mistress of Hadret House. Her mind impressed upon him that of shadow and secrets. Yet to him imparted a kernel of truth, a compass to lead him on.

_He felt the anger in him threatening to boil, of grief that marred the skies in dull hued shades, and of madness straining at the edge of reality. _  
_It was hard to focus, hard to breathe. _  
_A noose around his head._

A rival's seized galleon showed him a curious trinket; a glowing adra wrapped in rings of adra, copper and bronze. It broke as the ash fell that day, taking the souls of his mother, the nobles and the students of the college with it. And to his horror- brought it all to him.

Riots of the desperate and the mad, hunger in their eyes for food and copper. Guards firing from the walls, blood filling the streets. _nouf..._

A grey man in the stands that clapped his hands, as if congratulating a well written play. _enou.._.

Abomination they had called him. He could hear it in their thoughts as he ran, pelting him with iron and magic. An orlan from Dunryd Row dragging him forward. _enough_

There were machines in the docks. It followed shadowed hallways that reeked in iron, shit, and blood. _ENOUGH!_

Whispers of the Exiled Goddess echoed within his hollowed mind as his blades found their throats. Her iron garrotte was a bit tighter around his neck the further his steel dug into flesh. Cipher's Fire burned then, purple fire illuminating faceless men in cowls and robes.

He did not care, the gnawing vengeance pushed the flaming steel blade a little bit further.

And the man woke up.

* * *

Notes-

I just finished playing the first of the Pillars of Eternity games and wow was I amazed at the lore and depth of this game! Being the completionist as I am, it took me an inordinate amount of time wandering around the map to finish every last side quest before finishing the game. At the end, it left me a story wanting to be told.

After rereading the prologues, I found that that my writing was lacking and meandering in some places. So after some deliberating, I decided to streamline the entire prologue into one- keeping it more succinct to give more focus into the main storyline.


	2. Chapter 1- Forked Road To Gilded Vale

**Chapter 1 - Forked Road to Gilded Vale**

2823 Majiprima - Northwest of Cilant Lis, The Dyrwood

He woke up to a dull stinging sensation at the back of his head.

Stretching, he thought of the bottles he'd filched from Heodan when he wasn't looking, his recent indigestion, or something new altogether- before another revolt from his protesting innards made him willing to bet the second thought as the likely culprit of his most recent suffering.

Groaning, he sat up lighting a small candle beside him with the nearby flint to ward off the darkness. He reached for his waterskin and drank a draught of water.

Damn he was thirsty!

A knock on the carriage door. "Acalan, Odema wants to see you."

"I'll shall be there." He took off the furs from his small cot. The air here was warmer now- the caravan must have reached the Valewood after his last shift on the watch.

He donned his leathers, checking the knives, and sabre were in place before looking himself up at a small handheld mirror he acquired from Readceras.

Raven hair had been cut short to frame an Ixamitl face that bore sunken azure eyes. A scar ran through his right cheek to his dry lips, two other scars once split his left brow- each tell a story of near death and survival.

Another mask, for another place.

For the past five years, mercenary life and the occasional bounty hunter from the Republics have sent him drifting across the Reach. Dunryd Row had advised him to stay low- to play the long game after the last incident with the Key had gone terribly wrong.

With Leaden Key's obvious meddling in the Dyrwood, he had been ordered stay clear from them lest he interrupt the agency's current hands in play. In the mean time, he was given assignments; a rogue animancer here, the occasional blackmail there. Sometimes with an agent, most of the time by mercenaries he'd pick. Proving to Hadret House that with each victory that he can be trusted to get the job done.

Still the prized hunt eludes him- the Immortal Man, Thaos ix Arkannon

Something in him boils at the mention of that name, and then there was the ashfall in Spirento.

His fist clenched at the memory, but forced himself to relax- a recent missive by raven from Hadret House showed promising clues that their prey was on the move, this time the crone herself had asked for him.

Vengeance will come, in time.

He took a green cloak from the rack that when worn concealed most of his weaponry, and got off the cart.

Odema's caravan ran a circuit around the Reach, from Ixamitl Plains in the north to the Dyrwood Palatinate of the Pearlwood Gulf. Acalan had joined them on the road from Readceras, offering to pay extra for the privacy of a spare small wagon. Now, the caravan had stopped for the night, the carriages forming a tight semi circle around the bonfire where Odema and most of the caravan stood. A wall of adra grew behind the camp whereupon firelight casted the camp's eerie shadows.

The caravan master himself was explaining the day's progress, a delay in the form of a fallen tree on the road, and reminding the new travellers of the dangers inherent of the Dyrwood. Red moustache and jowls shaking with each gesture. The man had made a fortune through his work, the mercenary could respect him that much.

"Ho! Acalan, thought you were going to keep on sleeping til the monin'." A chuckle escapes the hearty caravan master.

"No rest for this weary one it seems. You called?" Aedyran with accented Natlan- made the mask a bit more real.

Odema eyed him critically for a moment before replying "I've got word that you have a bit of the runs.. and by the looks of it; might be Rumbling Rot from one of those stinging beetles 'round here. You'll be fine once it passes through your innards. 'Less you don't drink water"

He pats to his own waterskin "and then you'll be dead by the day."

He then proceeded on telling him of the springberries that may help cure him of his ailment, ordering Sparfel out for some water before mentioning one of the caravan guides- Calisca to help him find the berries and to see that he doesn't drop dead along the way.

Calisca was Thyrtan, a woman of fair skin and flaxen hair of around his age. She wore a suit of scales with a long bearded axe dangling from her left shoulder that from the last few matches Acalan had against her- she was quite good at. She also had an amusing habit of attaching names.

"For Snips here? No promises." she deadpans. Oh does she have the wit, even if she's too prickly to show for it. That gave him a name for her in return.

"_There's no promises to be made if you're not up for it hedgehog."_

Natlan words and he knows she understood them as she did guide work in the plains for a time.  
And they've been chatting in it during their shifts - trading barbs for the most part.

"_Oh am I up for it. And then maybe I leave you to the locals after you shit all over their rocks."_

The mercenary turned to the caravan master."She doesn't seem eager for the task."

Calisca flipped him a rude gesture in response.

The caravan master could only grin at their banter before shrugging apologetically to Acalan, his voice suddenly stern;

"I know you can hold on your own with those blades of yours. But I can't have you drop dead and go look for you. I've got a schedule to keep. ' sides," he points to Calisca. "I pay you well enough for the job."

He gestures to one of the wagons at the edge of the camp. "Off with you two. See to Heodan if you want some supplies before heading out."

Odema rubs his hands as if to ward off the chill. " And I want you back here as soon as you get your berries. There's somethin' in the wind that just doesn't seem right. So if the wind so much as tickles, you drop everything and run back here. We'll take shelter within the ruins if we have to. Hut dwellers be damned!"

"As you say Chief." The guide grunts, taking a torch from her person before lighting it up on the fire. The light of the flame seemed to brighten her eyes.

"Come on shit for stains, we're going on an adventure!"

He fought the need to roll his eyes. "Lead the way."

They'd ignore Heodan as they left the camp- there was no need for supplies for a short walk in the woods.

* * *

The springberries in question were found along with a carcass of dead stag being torn apart by a small pack of wolves. Four to be exact, and they were not happy having their dinner disturbed.

Cursing, Calisca took point, dragging the attention of most of the pack. Shouting, she threw the torch at them. Yelps came as eager mouths reached in too close to the flaming brand.

The guide held her long axe, a hand on the base of the axe head, another on the middle, the pointed end of it facing the wolves. She squared her stance, teasing the animals with experimental thrusts.

Growling, the first wolf attempts to lunge only to be met by the wooden shaft, it shrieked but continued its stalking, circling her.

Calisca shifts her attention to the second wolf cutting off its flank with a good spike to the shoulder- crunching something within, that sent it scurrying off to the woods.

She moved to the side just as the third tried at leap for her throat. She grimaced as the first sunk its teeth on scaled gloves. But teeth could hardly pierce through metal scale, and a quick raking shove forced the wolf to let go.

The fourth wolf ignored her completely and went for the mercenary off to her side. Only illuminated by moonlight and guided by the glint of the wolf's irises, Acalan stepped forward- palming a knife from within his cloak and in one quick motion drew and flicked it off, tilting his body forward as he did so.

The blade struck true, the point sailing in a swift line into the wolf's left eye and then embedded itself into the skull. It died not five paces more in front of him, tumbling heavily into the leafy ground.

Acalan drew his sabre as he ran to flank the remaining wolves. The first wolf, foolishly turned and tried to get a jump on the man as he moved towards it- only to spit itself on the tip of the curved blade. He grimaced as teeth glanced at his leather gloves.

Seeing its packmates slaughtered or turn tail, the last wolf gave the up fight, fleeing off into the trees.

The night was silent again as the rogue took out his knife from the dead wolf. Then he turned to the springberries before them.

Calisca huddled over the corpse of a wolf, a skinning knife on one hand as she carved its skin off the carcass. A wistful look on her bloodied face.

"In all of our little chats, you never did tell me why'd you want to come to the Dyrwood."

Hands still picking off the berry bush, he snorted. "The hedgehog ponders answers. What brought this on?" He already knew the answer to that: her mind is of home, nostalgia and a sister- worry colouring her thoughts. He sympathizes, but that is sympathy he could not share.

"Humor me Snips. A rogue Ixamitl plainsman coming this far south? You know the people there are more of the stay home, clan first kind. If not, then it's the occasional wandering philosopher-monk shit. You don't fit those two categories."

She bites the bottom of her lip "You've got one of the best hands I've seen, getting that locked trunk in Odema's cart was no easy feat I tell you. 'Got a feeling there's a story in you."

"Everyone has a story. But mine's probably more lacklustre than you think."

"Oh?" a pregnant pause.

The cover story comes easily enough. Some changes over time but even after years, telling it never gets any easier.

" Mother was a Ixamitl fisherwoman, father was a raider from Eir Glanfath or so she tells me."

"Grew up not knowing my father and the village didn't take to outside blood kindly, even more so when mother died." A flash of her ashen face and he sighed, he willed the mind to separate him from that memory, still his hands quivered ever so slightly.

"My hands and feet were quick enough, so I left."

"Damn, makes you wonder the things the Gods put us through, just to see what we'll do." She rolls the wolf skin to sling on her back before working on the other wolf carcass. She took a deep breath and sighed.

"Haven't been this way for a long time. I always did like it here. Lord Raedric's offer... makes a girl think, I'll give him that. You here to settle like the rest of the lot?"

"I'm just passing through. I heard some big undertaking in Defiance Bay. Might be worth my while." No harm in passing some truths, might learn something in return.

She grinned, "Going to the big city huh Snips? A word of advice from one plainsman to another: Cities suck. All those people; many would want a piece of you and they'll get it. Whether from picking your pockets for copper or wasting your time running around fetching things. If you wanna' be there, you got to act like 'em. Better take a village or a town for work." She groused.

She looks at him, the torch at her feet illuminating the thoughtful expression at her face "There's a lot of opportunities in Gilded Vale you know, even if the place's a bit down from the Legacy and all."

Acalan could only laugh. "Thank you, but I'm still interested in seeing Defiance Bay." He ropes off a pouch full of springberries. "I think this should be more than enough, come on hedgehog. Let's get to the stream."

She smiles, "Yeah. Sparfel could use a kick to the rear if he ain't there with the waterskins by now."

* * *

Sparfel was not to be found when they reached the stream. The found him by the treeline, collapsing from a bloody arrow on his back.

"Ambush!" Calisca roared. And it was like that first bounty on him all over again. At least he wasn't alone now.

She brandished her axe as two Glanfathan raiders came to cross the bridge.

A hunter stepped forward in the moonlight, bow pointing at them. Murderous thoughts and righteous anger emanated from their thoughts

Again he fought against the turmoil of his emotions, channelling them into focus.

"Take the bridge, I'll deal with the bowman."

With a grunt, Calisca dashed to pin the two raiders from crossing, first throwing the torch at their feet to distrupt their strides before the long haft of her axe barred their way forward. They rushed at her, daggers gleaming in the moonlight met the spike of her axe.

She took a step back and made them extend their reach, punishing one with a spike to his shoulder. He screamed, but did not fall.

His companion tried to make use of his friend's sacrifice, blade reaching for her face. But the guide deftly swung the axe blade in counter; cutting leathered hands, before shoving the bleeding Glanfathan off her. Now they stood at the middle of the stream.

Acalan ran then rolled away from the arrow shot by the Glanfathan hunter. Knives ready on both hands, he flicked them out as he came out of the roll. One landed right at the hunter's feet, eliciting a step back in surprise. But it came late as another sunk unto his abdomen. The enemy groaned, persevering as he tried drawing another arrow. Acalan was still ten paces farther.

Yet the delay in arrow fire was all the mercenary needed. For the next knife found the hunter's throat.

Quickly he ran to the dying hunter, a hand reached for the Glanfathan's skull before taking the hunter's fading essence borrowing his instinct. Once done, he took his knives off of the dead man before taking the bow and a few arrows from the quiver. Acalan eyed the men on the bridge and with a dead man's skill, drew and fired.

The man on the bridge couldn't even fathom how an arrow speared through his cheeks as he died.

With only one raider on the bridge, the battle was a foregone conclusion as an axehead to the chest meant a swift demise for a dying man. She secured her bloody axe back on her shoulders.

"Shit! We've got to get back to camp!"

After fighting off another Glanfathan search party, they did. Only that they were too late.

The horses were slaughtered and all lay dead or dying except kneeling Heodan who was held hostage by a dark bearded Glanfathan raider. The way he held himself within his mind cued him as the leader of this little raiding party. There were lackeys behind him and they were cutting down the dying.

The wet earth beneath his feet was stained red in the light of the bonfire. The smell of shit and gore wafted heavily in the forest air. A perverse joy in hunting outsider prey emenated from the raiding party.

Again the emotion threatened to boil over him in waves. He knew these people, drank with them, defended them from monsters. He knew their hopes and dreams, these things he gleaned from their minds as a precaution. Now those very minds met his in fading silence.

Damn them all!

He shouldn't get too attached to them, but it was hard. Not when for the past few months, this little wandering city was home.

Calisca covered her mouth with the back of her hand, her eyes wide at the scene.

"Lay-"

He did not need words now, this _bazzo_ has already answered with his thoughts.

A step and his hands were a blur, three knives in hand, three drawn and flew at once! One straight for blackbeard's head, two for his lackeys behind him. The green cloak billowing at the sudden motion.

The bearded Glanfathan reflexively drew up his arms to ward off whatever was thrown, giving time for Heodan to scamper out of his reach.

"Sorry, my hands slipped. What did you say again?" This time he did not bother to hide the malice in his tone, sabre and stiletto now in hand.

The raidmaster roared.

They fought with Calisca holding the center of the field. She pinned the towering Glanfathan with her long axe. Her furious strikes left deep groves upon the enemy's small shield.

Beside her was Heodan, the daggers in his hands were patient, waiting and teasing the raidmaster to lower his guard or that Calisca could yank the shield away.

Acalan dodged another arrow as he closed the distance to flank one of the hunters. One of his knives had struck him squarely on the chest, but it did not penetrate through the thick hide armor. The second hunter however, had a dagger through his right arm leaving him unable to draw his bow.  
This forced him to use his knife against the Ixamitl mercenary to help his friend.

The mercenary thrust his sabre out, using its reach to push the Glanfathan hunters a step towards the fire. Feeble feints from the handicapped hunter were easily parried by sabre.

Step back then forward, as the other's follow up lunge jarred his arm, yet the sabre's longer reach hooked under and into Glanfathan hunter's right arm, the point driven deep inside the un-armoured spot. He pressed onwards and to the side, paying no heed to his screaming victim while keeping his one-handed at bay. All the while digging the sabre point even deeper inside the man.

Roaring, his one-handed partner had decided that grappling unto him would be the best solution to end the mercenary. Acalan wrenched the hunter's hooked arm with the stiletto, punching it through and manipulating the screaming hunter as a makeshift shield before sending him back to his friend with a well placed kick.

The act mangled the first hunter's arm as both sabre and stiletto left deep bleeding holes. Now they were both one handed lefties.

Under the light of the bonfire, a small smile crept up the mercenary's features.

In the next few moves, his blades found their marks deep into Glanfathan heart and skull respectively. They won't be able to get up from this.

Calisca drove another cleaving swing unto the shield. This time she changed her pattern- hooking the cleft of her axe unto the shield's edge to get through the opponents head.

Unfortunately blackbeard's experience allowed him to escape the axe head from reaching into his skull by angling his shield forward. Before he could retaliate, Heodan's daggers sliced ribbons across his back earning a bark of pain.

Angered, the towering man shoved his shield down before sliding in with his own axe!

Calisca was struck, yet quick feet and manoeuvring made sure that the only thing striking her head was the man's mailed right forearm.

Still it was enough to daze her and in one motion blackbeard kicked her down. Heodan roared, both daggers digging deep into Glanfathan meaty forearm, preventing the raidmaster from wielding his axe!

Arms bleeding and face lively with rage, the raidmaster bludgeoned Heodan, his shield bashing the man's face to a pulp. Yet the merchant held on. He'll hold till morning if that's the last thing he'll do.

Then there was a sudden stop in the beating, replaced by an almost inaudible gurgling rattle.

The bloody mercenary cradled the man's face with his blades, it was almost intimate in the way the stiletto punctured underneath the bearded man's jaws while further down blood gushed in rivers as the sabre sliced its way through skin, muscle and blood. Words were whispered just beside the dying man's ears.

The dead man's eyes! They were bulging in terror as the end came, a haunting realization as nerveless fingers suddenly stopped moving. Then death who carried the corpse shoved him dismissively to the side, taking the man's heavy pouch as he did so.

Acalan retrieved his final knife beside the raidmaster's corpse before grasping Heodan's hand to get him standing. Calisca, stood using her axe as a makeshift crutch to gain balance.

And that was when the wind started to sting his very soul.

He doubled over as Spirento's memories threatened to overwhelm him.

Again not again; he wracked his mind, trying to maintain order. Breathing came in gasps and he could barely hear Odema's last words telling them to run, even as felt himself get dragged by Calisca to the rock face before she'd climbed. Heodan despite his hesitancy had gone up the rock face after her.

A ragged voice from above _"Come on Snips! Pull yourself together and climb! Or you can stand there and die in shit!"_

Wounded pride and a prick of annoyance, but just enough to snap him out of his reverie.

Leaden Key, vengeance, vindication, redemption. a never ending mantra spurred him on with each climb.

His bloody hands climbed the rocks and over the precipce, with both Calisca and Heodan helping him clear his feet off the ledge by grabbing his arms up over the top.

Heodan's voice hollered above the rising din, arms gesturing at the open portal of an intact ruin as his feet started running "There! Get inside now!"

They sprinted the last few paces, just as well; the stones above the portal collapsed under the wrath of the storm.

Inside the antechamber they all collapsed panting.

"That's a.." Heodan breathed

Acalan's voice seemed to echo within the empty hall between pants "Biwac huh.."

Calisca nods, "Then we're lucky to survive."

Heodan looks around "And we're the only ones to make it." His face was disfigured; bruised and bloody.

The mercenary looks to the path ahead. "No sense in lying around then, let's get moving. Heodan, think you can carry on?"

The merchant nods, A slight grimace "Yeah, but I'll probably need some ice and a good tankard of ale after this." he points to one eye which was almost closed shut. "Damn! there goes my entire stock too."

Calisca forged onwards, "We've been lucky so far and I don't know about you, but there's got to be a limit to how far we can push it. Being a holy site to the locals, this place might be crawling with guards."

Acalan stood beside her "I'm going a few meters ahead to scout the place. If anything goes wrong, you'll hear me with it. I'll be back in ten minutes." Cloak and knife, he blended into shadow.

Eventually it seemed that the prudent approach also pays; after a dead end from the first junction led them to an abandoned encampment with some resources, they'd found a journal that lead them to an ancient vault.

Assorted knickknacks and coppers richer, they'd snuck past the dead skaurip guard- courtesy of a certain merchant. And whatever enemies they couldn't avoid, they'd set up their deaths with careful ambushes.

Curiously, Calisca's worst fears never came to pass within the ruin- there was never a heavy Glanfathan presence to deal with.

* * *

A giant Engwithian machine greeted them as they exited the ruin. Old and crumbling, but still majestic in its design of stone, copper and adra. The entire area was one big echo to the Ashfall back in Spirento. And it was grating on Acalan's nerves.

He called on his cipher's training- breathing, feeding excess raw emotion into focus.

"You alright there Snips?" Calisca, her voice terse.

"I just need to get out of here."

"I very much agree." Heodan whispers.

They were already a hundred paces off the ruin's exit when they saw them.  
_  
Maddicho _Masks and grey cloaks, spoken oaths for Woedica- the Leaden Key. He saw the masked man who led them and his soul burned with hate. But the years have tempered the mercenary- allowing him time to reflect on what went wrong in Spirento. In studying his prey, he knew enough about animancy to get a gist of what was to come.

The clouds parted then and out streamed luminous moonlight.  
He could now see the ashen bodies taunting him with their answers.

_The Oathbinder's part? Given lives meant given souls. - A Siphon, _

_Souls meant power and with enough power being moved so suddenly, it creates a vacuum._

_Nature abhors a vacuum, staves it with equilibrium._

_Just as lightning passes through the air, so must thunder._

_What do you have then? -A Bomb_

Acalan held both of Calisca and Heodan by their arms, swiftly to the closest stone wall he deemed sturdy enough for the blast, yet far enough for the siphon not to burn them to ash.

"Snips what-" He cuts whatever was on their lips with a glare.

The mask be damned!

"Whatever happens next please, you must obey me if we are to survive. And if we survive this.." He looks to Calisca and Heodan, "at least promise me you'll take me to Gilded Vale." Her face grim, she considered a moment before nodding her ascent. Heodan grunted in agreement.

There! A rubble of stone around the height of an Aumua, backed with a ruined standing pillar. The rogue ordered them down before he too sat with them. This time he held their hands with his own.

This was the nightmare he feared would come. He knows the pain of the siphon, and that to counter act its effects meant an equally large force was needed to press down upon their souls to prevent it from being torn.

There's also the shockwave from the resulting feedback. But with a stone wall between them and the machine, it may just be enough.

He hears the hum of the machine and the telltale sting of an artificial biwac. He knows without seeing that the souls nearest to the machine are being taken.

_"Our mind's eye more or less gives us the desired results if we feed it our focus and intent.' Kurren steps into the canon's firing range with nothing more than a loin cloth._

_'But sometimes, even that is not enough. So what can you do to shore yourself with what little you have?_

_Pray to the Gods? Sing a song? If so, then you only have half of the answer boy._

_Ciphers like us don't use incantations like wizards do, or as common as bards with their phrases. We use it to induce a tranced state that forces the mind to its utmost for the briefest of moments. Be warned of the drawbacks. There's a price to be paid in forcing yourself beyond what is required._

_You of all people should know."_

_The orlan mutters in Glanfathan before turning to the canons 'I am ready.'_

He takes a breath and chants in Vailian, remembering the waves that crashed against the unyielding stone.

_"I am the stone that breaks the sea." _The hairs on the back of his head stood on end as his mind begins to assert itself directly upon his soul. The needs and pains of the body fades as he fed more focus unto himself.

Cipher's Fire flashes bright as a devouring whip lashes both of companions. A groan of pain, fidgeting but he ignores them. The great damnable soul within him grew bright as his mind went beyond, encompassing the group in a veil of fire and force. There he pushed themselves down, anchoring the outlines of their souls down to their bodies even as he drew them of essence to bolster his fight against the pull.

He could feel the drain and draw of the machine on his barrier like a wire taut with tension. The moment stretched into eternity as the screaming grew louder below them, eclipsing even the artificial storm.

A sudden silence fell as the machine locked its gyrations. Then the shock came and something from within him finally snapped.

Gods above!

The force,

the force...

And he was in a different place, in another time. Here was the very same machine, with a pillar of adra rising at its centre. Housing the entire thing was a domed circular room, decorated in intricate patterns of copper and adra.

There was a question he wanted to ask, a question of the most vital importance, a question that's directed for a man in ceremonial robes. He whose hair was tucked within a black cowl and winged headress.

He knows this man, and a question that needed an answer burns ever bright within his fragmented soul.

* * *

Calisca awoke to a ringing echo within her ears. She was stiff and sore all over, a relative surprise given her habit of sleeping on the ground. Coughing, she found her axe beside her and lifted herself up with it- and saw from the ash coated tracts, that she must have rolled a fair bit away from the group when the veil Acalan had conjured had cracked.

Peering below the ledge found that whatever was near that machine had it much, much worse; the soil was charred black, smoky from the burned grass. What trees large enough to escaped instant incineration had worn massive smoking cracks through their trunks- as though lightning had tore through their very heartwoods from within.

She did not need to go far to see where Heodan had lain. The pink tinge of blood and brains marked where his skull had split open from landing unto a stone pillar. The poor sod was one more victim to whatever strange forces at bay.

A reminder of how close she was from certain death.

She sighed, guilt worming its way within her. It was not too long ago that Heodan delayed the axe that might've ended her life. She closed the dead man's eyes and with a hardened heart, moved on.

"Acalan! Snips! You still with us?!" Stealth be damned! She still got some promises to keep.

Right?

Right. Her mind wandered to a time when Orin; one of her brothers, was shouting before he too left for Rauatai.

_"I promised Erik I'd help him out of a bind in Rauatai ma! I just can't leave him hanging there! And I ain't coming back 'til I get him out. I promise."_

That story played out well in the end, with Erik living in Aedyr in the years to come. Orin settled as an explosives dealer in Takowa. A story of brief respite against the terrors around her.

She'd trace her steps back to the rubble where the rogue (a cipher?) shielded them from the machine. And there he was, still sitting on the stone. His hands had lain limply on the ground by his sides. The shadow of his veil burned itself unto the stone, leaving a dark halo around where they once sat.

"Good thing for you I keep my promises Snips. Though if you're a cipher; you'd know that by now wouldn't you?"

No response. A worried frown crossed her face as she felt for his pulse- weak, thready. A close look found his lips dry. She remembers the Rumbling Rot.

Shit. Well, at least she had her healing skills honed from her time in the Plains.

After giving him miniscule draughts of water, she'd set off to the nearest fallen tree with her long axe in hand. She'll need a basic stretcher, and preferably a decent tea set.

"Can't have you dying now when you're clearly in the thick of whatever this is." she grumbles.

Despite this, there was a faint glimmer of hope that bloomed within her. Her sister, Aufra had called her away from her wandering job in the Plains. As the most laid back of the siblings, she wouldn't have called without something really serious going down.

Whatever it was, those hooded cultists must've something to do with it.  
And Snips sleeping back on the rock might just have some answers.

"Hold on sis. I'm coming. Just you wait."

Planting her feet to the ground, she swung her long axe at the tree trunk.

It was going to be a long day.

* * *

Notes-

Vailian:

_bazzo - _dick  
_Maddicho _\- Spoken evil/Damn

So we've arrived at the main story! Calisca here will be a bit OC though I'll base most of her from the few interactions we've seen during the tutorial. She dispositions around aggressive, clever, passionate (especially when it comes to Gilded Vale). I've also changed her weapon of choice as a two-handed long axe user, reasoning that Living Land's population of oddballs and madmen meant the need of a more intimidating weapon. Plus her axe would be practical on her journey as a makeshift walking stick/woodman's axe all rolled into one. Danish axes (from which her's was based on) look cool too, aside from the tactical advantages it'll have later in the story.

Unlike the instant wake up that our Watchers have upon encountering the Machine at Cilant Lis, Acalan's tactic of using your own soul as a shield against it will not be looked upon kindly. If cipher powers might look op, wait 'till we encounter enemy mages/bards


	3. Chapter 2- Vale Hung

**Chapter 2 - Vale Hung**

2823 Majiprima - Gilded Vale, The Dyrwood

It was hard trekking the woods alone. It was harder when you're carrying a body on your back. What should've taken a day's walk turned into almost three with the load and frequent stops. But she'd handled far worse before.

Carrying your ill prepared employers across Ixamitl also does wonders for one's fortitude, if not your money pouch in gratitude payments.

Calisca's makeshift stretcher was lashed unto her back with strips of leather torn from Heodan's armor. Sturdy wooden poles made up the frame while a number of smaller wooden stalks wove together and formed a seat where the unconscious mercenary sat on, his head, arms, chest, waist and legs were tied to the frame with cloth to prevent him from falling off.

Her long axe was hung on one side of the stretcher, easy to reach when needed. Currently on hand was the short bow that she took from Acalan after Cilant Lis, its quiver of arrows strapped to her right leg. She wasn't that much of an archer and the weight on her back made the draw awkward, but she'd managed to take out the lone bandit near the falls with it.

Best hurry. If there's one, chances that there's a group nearby is high.

She lengthened her strides and almost considered a short cut through the ruins. However, her sharp eyes picked up wolf's spoor leading into the ruined stone portal in the distance, forcing her to abort the plan. Not the first time she'd avoided trouble this way for today..

"Come on, you gotta' wake up Snips." For the most part the cipher was silent, at other times he mumbled in other tongues not only in Natlan, Aedyran, but also in Vailian. She knew it was not her business, but she was curious nonetheless.

She'd hope he'd wake up along the way, knowing that some of the more experienced wizards would sometimes pass out after casting particularly big explosions in quick succession. But now it seems that the cipher will be waking up in the village with the pace she was setting. What would her sister think- her bringing a man to the house?

A gloved hand slapped her warming cheek in admonishment.

Well she could always drop him off at the Temple of Eothas. They have the best healers in town.

* * *

The first signs of trouble were already evident the moment she saw the state of the fields; the golden fields that the village was known for was untilled. The wild weeds and briars had marched past and over the fences that kept them out.

Decrepit houses lined the roads where people once gossiped and readied their tools for the field with more than one house having signs that a fire had burned through it.

There was a pall in the air and the heavy clouds above only served to amplify the feeling. People were whispering, shifty eyes and nervous glances told her of some unseen tension. And there were far, far fewer people than she had expected.

None of whom were familiar to her.

A sense of dread hounded at her. But she'd immediately quashed the feeling. She's almost at the old family house now.

And then she saw it.

"Berath's Mercy."

There was great tree she used to dance under as a child before their family wandered north. Its majestic boughs was wreathed in garlands of green leaves, acorns, and birdsong.

Now only the hanged dead dangled beneath the withered white branches. Ravens swarmed around it like a black cloud that cawed and feasted. The sour sweet aroma of spoiling meat greeted her even before she could get a good look.

Behind the tree stood the Temple of Eothas. Ruin had come to the temple; its great masonry was gutted with only a few good sections of stone standing to claim where the faithful once worshiped the God of Light.

Well there goes the leaving-her-baggage plan.

A few paces later she spotted the old baker and his wife upon one of the branches. In another she found a farmer she and her brothers once played with, with another familiar corpse beside him. All of them greeted her with their eyeless gaze and rotting flesh.

Anger had boiled its way into her blood, quelling her rising revulsion. If she finds her sister already in the tree Berath help them-

"Welcome to Gil-" The croak of a voice was drowned by hers.

"Where is Aufra?" A welcoming party approached her from the side while she was preoccupied with the tree. A pale man lead the three party committee. Balding and pale, the lead blinked at her sudden outbrust.

Her right arm held the readied arrow to the bow. The one good thing about this shortbow was that it really didn't need as much of a draw than most bows. Glanfathan craftsmanship, who knew?

"I swear if any of you lie to me, your heads will be mine before sundown!" Calisca growled.

The pale man's two lackeys palmed their weapons, their intent clear. But the man that greeted her held his arm out to them. Blinking, he stammers for a response.

Before he could a figure approaches from the direction of the ruined temple; a man saunters towards them, hand waving in the air. Despite wearing the scaled raiment Dyrwoodan veterans wore for the Saints War and an arming sword strapped to his hip, this tall bearded blond wore a ready smile as he took sight of them.

"Urgeat, it's be best that you don't harass the woman. The Gods have blessed you enough that her brothers aren't around to beat you senseless." His face hardened. "And we don't want another tragedy with the loss of Raedric's heir. Calisca, you can put the bow down, Aufra's still at home. Alive and well.. kicking for the lack of a better term." Eder mused.

His eyebrows raised at the sight of Calisca's baggage.

"Don't you mind me boys, I'll be taking the welcoming party off your shoulders."

"If you say so hero." shrugged Urgeat, he beckoned his lackeys to follow before turning and lurching off the other direction as both henchmen grumbled at the lack of action.

Calisca sighed in relief, lowering her bow.

"Thanks Goldie. And let me say, you sure are a sight for sore eyes!" She wrinkled her nose. "Though I'm not a fan of you taking the Whiteleaf habit."

Eder barked a laugh "Ha! Can't say I miss my old nickname me'self." He prodded the stretcher before suddenly covering his nose.

"So who's stinky over here?"

Calisca frowned.

* * *

The eldest of Calisca's siblings, Aufra gave the unconscious mercenary a look. The light of the hearth dyed her auburn hair in deep dark hues while a hand protectively sat on top of the small bump that is her unborn child. Another held a small lamp casting a wan light upon the figure on the bed.

The cipher's face was still gaunt, but at least his eyes weren't as sunken nor were his skin pitted so from days before.

"He's lucky enough that you'd managed to get him to drink the tea at this state."

"All I'm wondering is how'd you do it?." Eder's brows wagged. "'Can't say I blame you though, he is well formed for... what'd you say he was? Yeah, for a cipher." He hummed.

"I learned all kinds of things in the plains Goldie, like this one." Calisca promptly gave him a kick to the shin. Her older sister shook her head in exasperation.

After getting over her surprise and dawning horror that her sister was with child, Calisca had set up two of their family's old beds for Acalan and her to settle in. With the herbalists in the village pulled to the hold and the Temple of Eothas burned, the only qualified healers with experience that they know of were of themselves.

She had persuaded Eder to help them bathe the unconscious cipher before getting some of Hathort- Aufra's late husband's clothing for the sleeping man to wear. The rest of his ruined clothing will have to be dealt with in the morrow.

Smarting, Eder rubbed his shin "Sure, for all I know you brought him _from_ the plains." He laughs. "It's just like the good old times again; me and Woden, you girls and your brothers, Elafa, the twins from Aaron's... Messing with the village again." His eyes were wistful despite his wide smile.

Aufra extinguished her lamp as she placed it back on a shelf. "We're not kids anymore. She levelled a glare at the man. "You especially Eder being five years older." She casts a forlorn look at the small portrait of her and her husband at the mantelpiece.

"There's strange things afoot, with Odema's Caravan gone and those cultists in Cilant Lis, and now I fear of what's coming after the death of Raedric's heir."

"It's the second day since the poor thing died sis. Yet all the lord does is mope in his castle. All things considered, I think he'll do squat in the mean time if the tragedy has put some sanity back to him." Calisca fixed the final ropes on Acalan's wrists. Can't have you suddenly walk away now can I Snips?

"And that's a problem." Eder's hand twitches for his pipe before sighing.

"See the town isn't exactly thriving without its lord pouring in the coppers and the Raedric we have now isn't exactly in the right state either."

Aufra takes a sharp breath of air glaring at the man "Where are you going with this Eder?"

"He wants a revolt Sis."

"Hey! All I'm saying is that I don't want to be the next guy hanging 'cause the old coot decided that worshipping my god is the reason that having a healthy baby isn't possible anymore. No offense Aufra."

"None taken."

" Though my captain might have vouched for me that I'm a hero 'n all, it's only a matter of time before Raedric might decide that the rumours of Woden's loyalties can just be the reason why his kid wasn't exactly whole." The man raised both of his hands in the air "I don't think things will be better off after they make me kick the bucket either."

"So what are you gonna do then Eder?" Calisca takes a seat after putting the candle on the nearby table, the soft light illuminating both her face and the sleeping cipher.

"They say a younger Radric's out there, looking for supporters to oust the old man. I say we attract their attention - a good deed here or there and they'll come to us" He shrugs "Or me. But I don't think I can take all of this on my own though. I need you Cal, yes even stinker over there." A pause.

"Not you though Aufra, I'm not that crazy to take you on with your child."

Eder twirls his pipe on his hands, his gaze lingering on the sleeping cipher, before turning back to Calisca, "'Sides, if what you're saying makes sense, then maybe Raedric junior there can help you. The rumours did say he's been out in the wilds for a while, might have some news for some of this mess."

Calisca blinked. "Wow, never thought you'd come up with a plan Goldie. Thing is, are we the only ones in the in?"

He winked at her before standing. "Woden always had a plan, I'm just copying him is all. And I got a guy." He curtsied at Aufra before picking up his cloak "I'm going to the Black Hound, got to give my friend the heads up. Oh, and take Acalan there when he's up for it."

"You do realize if you are going to fail, they are going to come for me. Though I suppose they will if.." Aufra bit her bottom lip as her hands trembled. She takes a breath before continuing.

"I know I can't stop you from this foolish quest. But if you must," the sharp glint in her eyes were bright against the backdrop of her shadowed face. " then you make sure that son of a bitch pays in full."

Eder nodded as he left the door.

"Boys do grow up so fast." Aufra sighed. She rubbed her belly absentmindedly. There was an old lullaby humming from her lips as she sat down on her bed, exhausted.

"Yeah, about that Sis, remember the letter you sent me? Something you needed help with?"

Tired eyes met hers "Did you know there's a new law for mothers in the Vale? With my sweet Hathort gone I just..."

Unbeknownst to the sisters, the cipher's eyelids began to flutter.

* * *

Early night had fallen as Eder strode through the dim lit streets. The smoking pipe on his lips glowed bright with burning whiteleaf as he strode down the road. He did not have to go far, as he could hear tavern music faintly hailing his ears the moment he had left Aufra's house. Just needed to round the corner and there he'd be greeting the front doors of the Black Hound Inn.

Come to think of it, there _is_ a fluffy black hound somewhere around here. If only he could track it down and ask the owners to let him pet the thing. He breathed out a long drought of that calming smoky air, now that would be something. Smooth warm fur between his hands while a contented lick graced his cheeks.

The harsh sound of breaking glass hitting wood broke his whiteleaf induced dream of doggy heaven.

"Ye sissy lads 're back for some thrashing eh!" The lithe figure hooded in azure was unmistakably an elf. Curiously, his accents his switched madly from modern Aedyran to Hylspeak at the drop of the hat in the conversation.

Eder hasn't had much experience with awakened souls, but after fishing it out of Aloth sometime after his first _few_ run-ins with him. He can tell Iselmyr was quite the firebrand when she's on. Eder's thoughts briefly wanders to Elafa, and was stricken with a sense of melancholy.

"We'll see about that foul tongue of yours now your hero ain't here to rescue you!" That'll be Miko and his posse of angry farmers stirring trouble when there's nothing else to do 'cept the drink.

"My friends, I meant that I wanted to buy those fine thrashed oats you guys are known for!"

Aloth no. Miko might be that daft, but the rest of the farmers with him aren't.

Hopefully.

There was an angry muttering that buzzed the gang. "The fields are buggered up good and I for one think you've had a hand in messing it up."

"I conne see yer still a wee coxfithering babe who can'a stand hyl tongue-lashing!"

There was a twinge of irritation that struck Eder. He just fished the elf out of trouble two days ago! It always seemed that the moment he gets his eyes off of him, trouble would come just right around for the elf.

And he told Miko to lay off the harder stuff the last time.

He sucked it up. He did need some of the attention to boot. Time to set things right again!

A mailed hand rose to his sword's pommel before he barked his greetings.

"Hey! I thought I said to get your lazy asses off our visitor. Miko, have you been drinking again?"

"No sir! I just can't stand some damned elf making a fool of us!"

Eder patted the man's shoulders, his full height towering over the stout man. "Look I just want to have a pint to drink. I get it. Times are rough. But if you can't even handle the simple rules of the town..." the veteran sighed. "I've already told you off before, do you really want to do this?"

Miko's ears turned red, but his buddies had the sense to drag him away. The broken wine bottles they wielded lay forgotten on the rough cobblestones.

"We really have to stop meeting like this Aloth, Iselmyr." Eder tipped his head in greeting.

"You and me both, Eder." breathed the elf.

They both headed towards the double doors that led up inside the Inn. After Eder came with a black hound in tow, they nursed their mugs of cheap ale (and wine for Aloth) at the more secluded corner of the pub.

Eder huffed out a lungful of smoky leaf, gently tapping his pipe at the ash tray. A stray hand ruffling the dog's fur. "I think, you could use a change in scenery."

"Really? I was thinking about the same thing." brooded Aloth. "Forgive me for saying but the hospitality your village has... taken quite the beating over the last decade. When I finally leave here after my study at your village's done, I think I won't miss much when I finally leave."

The man's face frowns "You won't miss me?" After all the times bailing you out? Now that's harsh."

Aloth stumbles, "W-well, I suppose you can be an exception."

Eder shook his head, smiling "Thanks. But no, I don't mean you leaving just yet." He takes a careful look at the patrons as a precaution before continuing on.

"Look, I'm putting together a group. Something along the lines of hoping to change the village for the better."

Aloth rolled his eyes. "Tell me this isn't one of your good-ish ideas." The elf however seemed intrigued at the possibility.

"But what _do_ you want from an Aedyran wizard? Surely you're not going to make me do the fireworks for the next big festival." He gestures to himself "And with _this_ in tow, I'm not exactly 'family friendly material' as they say."

A soft chuckle worms its way from Eder's mouth, "I'll give you a clue; the finale involves a lot of explosions inside a hold half a day's march from here. With a lot of screaming men for their momas that are hopefully... _not_ on our side."

Aloth's eyes grew livid "Oh."

And in accented Aedyran "Have ye knickered yer breeches in a knot lad?"

A crinkle of a smile crept up the man's lips. "No Iselmyr I don't. But I've got some friends willing to back us. Some, we'll meet in the morrow. The rest..." Calloused fingers rolled in the air "Well we may have to impress later on."

The hooded elf blinked eyebrows twitching, "You're talking about the Younger Raedric rumour aren't you? Eder hummed in agreement. A sharp one, this elf.

Eder furtively glanced at the dog before looking to Aloth "So are you in? Both of you? I kinda' understand if you want to back out."

"Well I don't have anything to do at the moment." The elf blinks. "Aye, explosions it is!"

The veteran grinned, "Great! The next round of is on me." Eder stands, a step before remembering something. "Oh and uh, if you happen to know anything about cults making artificial biwacs that'd be grand. Tell me when I get back with refreshments."

Eder walked to back to the counter, hailing Pasca.

"I'll take another ale and wine. He flashed his best winsome smile to the maid.

"Is there any problems I can help you with?"

Back in his seat, an amused Aloth begins to wonder.

* * *

Notes-

Hylspeak:

_Ye sissy lads 're back for some thrashing eh!_ _ \- _You guys are back for a beating eh!  
_I conne see yer still a wee coxfithering babe who can'a stand hyl tongue-lashing! - _I can see you're still a little (expletative) baby who can't stand my tonguelashing!  
_  
Have ye knickered yer breeches in a knot lad?_ \- Have you tied your panties in a knot boy?

Yes Eder and Aloth/Iselmyr are in mah bois! It was hard enough figuring out what Iselmyr would say in the place of Aloth when they're threatened physically or socially (had to look up how Gaelic sounds like for reference). Then there's restructuring the overall plot now that the companions have much more freedom when Acalan is still out.

Aloth's predicament is known to Eder here (cause, from the looks of things I think his secrets won't last form the way he's bluffing the villagers) and 'cause of Eder's natural charisma has its way of worming to those taken to him. Besides, 7 months in Gilded Vale post Saint's War with an unreconciled awakened soul? That elf's going to have a rough time without somebody keeping an eye on him.


	4. Chapter 3- Precipitous Conspiracy

**Chapter 3 - Precipitous Conspiracy**

2823 Majiprima - Gilded Vale, The Dyrwood

Weak and heavy, his head throbbed with pain. The whispering voices beyond that of Calisca and her sister in the background had at first, been chalked off as a delirium caused by the Rot.

But Acalan now found it even troubling that exerting his weakened mind to sense beyond him only served to amplify the gibberish voices- even if his mental probes sensed that he and the sisters were the only kith present.

"Well look who decided to finally join us! No use in hiding it Snips. It's rude to poke a lady without asking." A finger prodded his forehead.

For his probes to fail this bad... Something really is _off_.

He opened his eyes, darting immediately to Calisca's face. She grinned. "Glad to see you among the living Snips. Sorry 'bout the bindings" She touched the ropes that bound his wrists. "Can't have you suddenly up and running now could we?"

He nodded. Acalan couldn't blame her, he was considering the option.

A flicker of movement caught his eye. Off to his left was a pale shade of a man was sitting in an unused chair, he looked longingly to an auburn haired woman- who could only be Calisca's sister sitting beside him.

It seemed that she was ignoring him; her wary gaze was locked to the cipher. That was when Acalan realized that his mental probe could sense _nothing_ of the man, as if he was not there to begin with.

The ghost's head swivel to meet his gaze. He felt the hairs at the back of his nape stood on end, seeing the rope burns that cut through the ghost's neck.

Calisca's voice drifted through his unease "That's my sister, Aufra. Aufra, Acalan. Acalan, Aufra. There now that you know each other.. You ok, there Snips?"

"A man beside Aufra, do you see him?" His own voice sounded hoarse to his ears.

Calisca's brows furrowed "No. Acalan, it's only us in the house right now."

Aufra's eyes suddenly turned to where the cipher was gazing, eyes wide. The ghost met her gaze, and a yearning so evident bloomed upon his face. But it died as Aufra shook her head, a hand rubbing her belly in comfort. "No, I see nothing either."

"If this is some Cipher bullshit you're playing then cut it out. My sister husband just died and I'd be damned if I let you play us for fools."

"I'm not fooling you!"

The ghost turned to him as he rose from the chair, silent footfalls echoed within Acalan's ears before coming to a stop before his bedside. The cipher tried to pull away as the soul came close, his hands dragging his back until he practically sat on the bed rest, ropes biting his wrists. He'd fought with phantoms, shades, and their ilk before. But to fight one this weak and off guard...

Why can't the dead just stay dead?

The voices at the edge of his hearing grew silent the more the ghost edged closer. Awareness had amplified the cipher's feelings of regret and loss even as the ghost began to speak.

"Tell Aufra I'm sorry, I couldn't be there for her and the baby. That I was a fool for refusing to leave... "

Unconsciously Acalan's vision tunnelled. A new found instinct within him recognized it and before the cipher knew what was happening; his mouth followed the man- Hathort's voice..

Calisca could only stare as the words reduced her sister into a sobbing wreck mumbling her husband's name in her grief. Acalan's eyes were glazed over as he delivered a dead man's message.

When it was over the cipher had told her sister that her husband had gone to the wheel.

"I am sorry... for your loss." Acalan echoed. The man's eyes were downcast. It was striking, to see him lack the usual confidence and arrogance she'd come to know him of.

"No. Thank you. I've haven't heard when they've taken my husband. He was.. already gone when I saw him next." Aufra choked back a sob.

Calisca puts a comforting arm around her sister. "It's going to be alright. We're going to make it so that those bastards will pay." She slowly lead her sister back towards her bed.

Acalan's thoughts were a whirl, the grief of Hathort and his own shock at recent events has caught up to him. He's read the tales, the files and from the looks of things; he was very well into becoming a Watcher. Despite their fancy tales he knew that in reality many of them did not have their sanities intact.

And if the voices he keeps hearing at the edge of his sight were an indication of his growing madness, then Acalan fears the worst has yet to come.

Another addition to his to his growing list of problems: most of his coppers and kit were gone in Odema's Caravan, an unreliable set of cipher skills, the long treacherous road to Defiance Bay...

Now he'll have to be even more careful without a rogue's kit, a reliable cipher's probe and glamour for cover; those damned paladins and bounty hunters may just bite his _postenago_ ass! _Merla!_

His charted course to Hadret House was getting derailed.

Calisca sauntered back to him, her hands on her hips, eyes dark. "So Snips, mind telling me what in the godsdamned wheel happened in Cilant Lis?"

Acalan weighed his options and sighed. She _saw_ and hadn't killed him at Cilant Lis.

At the very least he owed her a sliver of truth.

A shift in tongue veiled their secrets.

_"What do you know of Dunryd Row?"_

* * *

"So this is your plan Eder? This one cannot say he is impressed." Grumbled Acalan as he sat at the Black Hound Inn. Beneath the table, Blackie the hound whined for attention.

The noon light drifted from the shutters of the old inn, illuminating little of the round table that sat a party of four; an elf, and three humans.

To say that the journey to the inn was uneventful was subjective, the barrage of lost souls he saw haunting all over the village the moment he set foot outside Aufra's house did not seem to do the short walk justice. That justice... of being short, he shivered.

Already he could feel last night's vision of the old dwarf woman swimming at the forefront of his memories. He knew with certainty the corpse was hanging somewhere up that ruined tree.

It was something he was not looking forward to this day.

"Hey if you could find one something better, then by all means. Lay it all out mystery man." Eder held out his hands.

"Forgive Eder. He's not the best planner at times, though he means well." The elf, Aloth intervened. The slight elven man was said to be a student studying the Legacy from Aedyr. Something about him feels off to the cipher and he wasn't too keen on trusting him that quick.

His couldn't even trust his probes to work properly at this stage. Not yet.

Calisca puts down her mug of ale. "I for one thinks Goldie's right. Something's afoot in the Vale and either that's going to take us out first or Raedric's inability to reign his ass in will. Whichever is first, the end won't change if we leave things as is. This way we'll shoot two birds with the same arrow right?" She looks pointedly at Acalan.

"The expression you're looking for is shooting two birds with one stone." Aloth corrected. Calisca shrugs.

"This one is not saying the plan is bad."

"It doesn't need to be impressive to work." Eder butted.

"One wouldn't want to be the goat when the plan goes wrong."

"Scapegoat?" frowns the elf.

Eder grins "It won't. Trust me! Stick with me and go stab! Stab! Isn't that how Cal got you her name for you?" Idealist, gullible to a fault. He can use this. The elf, he'll need more time to watch. He's too way out of place.

Is he a lookout? A sacrificial hostage for some nobleman down the game? Too many factors, not enough time.

He thinks of his weakened mind and the memory of Cilant Lis. He hated this.

He kicks himself, _he_ is a professional.

Fine. We'll do it your way.

And it was sound, he'll give the veteran that: they lack funds to do anything else otherwise. The coppers gained from Cilant Lis covered their rations and to replacing _some _of his kit and gear, not much else despite the amount. His thoughts turned to the bounties briefly before touching back on his condition.

He kept his voice even. "Anyone knows of the resident Watcher? Mayer-something- Mayermalt? Mayerbald?"

The elf's brows rose "Maerwald? Of Cad Nua?"

That ancient Cad Nua?

Ah, the cipher deflates in resignation. Of course, it seems he'll be seeing a lot more of the dead in the near future.

"I have pressing business to relay to the man." he shrugs.

"We could chart a course for Anslog's Compass through Magran's Fork, first." Calisca mutters. "It's closer than Caed Nua."

"Good." delaying the inevitable.

"It's spooky Cal, I've heard the place's been abandoned in recent years. Old Maerwald isn't as outgoing as he used to these days." Eder scratches Blackie's ears as he puffed his pipe.

A hearty roar of approval from the nearby table distracted Acalan from his more morbid thoughts.

Aloth glowers at the rowdy table. "That would be the dwarf Sweynur, another farmer who styles himself the village champion but really is nothing more than a glorified swine."

" I've heard that he's been bothering Trumbel the miller these days." Calisca chimes.

Acalan's brows rose in interest as he eyes the Aedyran mage "Personal bad blood between you and this Sweynur?"

"Quite."

Eder frowns "Oh yeah, almost had to break Sweynur's nose the last time he'd try something funny to our friend here."

The cipher hums before rising from the table.

"This one hopes this... Younger Raedric takes notice."

"Hey where are you going?!"

"Making your plan work Eder." The cipher takes a brief glance at the elven mage.

Yes make a plan work.

He strode to the rabble of carousing farmers. he injects a bit of _liveliness_ in his tones "Fellows! This one hears of your problems with grain yes?"

"Sod off horseboy! Saw you were carried by that wench on her back yesterday. Well congratulations for coming up to the living foreigner!" The dwarf who could only be Sweynur among the group of human farmers, a mug of cheap ale raised in mock honour before downing it in one noisy gulp.

Many of his friends that were wide eyed at the entrance of this strange bronzed Ixamitl man striding towards them now laughed.

The sound vexes the cipher's ears.

"Believe it or not, this lowly one's people were good with grain. Might be of use to your problem."

"And if you listened closely to the news it's not us that's the problem, it's that damned Trumbel refusing to lower the prices of what grain we have." The table crowed in approval. Meaty dwarven hands held a crude pottery of ale to his wooden mug.

Acalan grabs the dwarf's mug just as he refills it, sidesteps as the dwarf tries to grab it back.

"Is it not reasonable he does this with the blight? That your Raedric would push him so?"

"Look here prancing pony, I don't fucking care if Admeth himself would rise from the dead and demand my fucking loyalty. We also got to feed our families-"

"The miller's family needs feeding too yes?" he cuts in smoothly and without pause, "Condemning this miller in the village and you bring the wrath of the your ruler. " A pause. "I see only one mill here yes?" He sees the sobriety of his fellow farmers. Good.

"It would not matter if the head is mad, but if the stomach hungers then the search for food is inevitable. It is the law of the Hunter. The strong prey the weak and this one fears that all. of. us... are not the strong."

The Ixamitl man glares back at the dwarf. There was a pall in the room.

"All this one sees is a _coward_ who spends his time with the mug, leading a few honest farmers with him astray." he drawls, dripping the contents of the mug to the floor before slamming it down to the table.

The dwarf was beet red. Almost ready to explode out of his chair if not for the few hands holding him back.

"What. In. The FUCKING wheel do you want!?" A faint smile crossed the cipher's lips

"A bet. One wants to scratch all of your backs, you scratch this one's." He released the rags of a green cloak he wore and not long afterwards so too were his sabre and knives.

"An honest fight between men of honour. That is custom here yes? No blades, just fists and feet."

"Ha! You chose the wrong fuck to challenge lad. I've beaten up thugs bigger than you. If... I win I get that shiny sword of yours, your coppers and get the fuck off the land. Anything to ante that up boy?"

"Leave the miller alone and all of you work. You can even carouse in the tavern, the gods care not. Oh, and leave that elf alone." He points to a surprised Aloth.

"So as witness by veteran Eder Teylecg."

Eder blinks for a moment before shrugging and in a clear timbre, "By the gods eyes I do."

It was a risk. But everything really is, the cipher mused. The trick was to improvise.

He was not a master of unarmed combat. He was not the monk his people were known for.

The majority of his repertoire relied on cipher trickery and blade work. As far as his real experience of it for the most part, was remarkably the occasional mundane tavern brawl.

A ring of people surrounded them, moving chairs and tables to get a good look at the brawl. A few cat calls as they stripped down to their trousers and boots.

"You sure know how to get a party riled up do you Snips." Calisca had her eyes fixed on his face as he handed her his gear. A poised arch brow greeted him.

He shifts his tongue. "_I am in a betting mood. Remember our deal."_

She blinks _"I'm counting on it. Though I'm not so sure you'll come out on top. Think you can weasel this shit out?"_

_"Absolutely."_

He rued as the first few hits punched through his flesh.

Well placed fists pummelled his arms and chest in rapid succession while another narrowly missing his groin if not for a slight shift in his footwork.

_Merla_ that one hurts!

His mind worked overtime, picking up the nuances of the melee. All the while, the bloody high flowed through his veins as he bottled it into razor sharp focus.

"Where's all that confidence horsefucker!?"

He bides his time; a jab here, a cutting low cross met thick dwarven shoulders. Now side step and kick low! A sharp sound echoed as foot met dwarven knee. But Sweynur laughed it off.

In hindsight, it was really not a good idea fighting a muscled dwarf unarmed. A low centre mass and stout legs meant he'll have to work double, maybe triple to flip him over. The stout neck and a short beard minimizes his chances of choking Sweynur to submission.

However there is one thing going for the cipher; and it was goading the dwarf insane with anger.

Fights such as this were not supposed to last more than a few moments and Acalan was bruised, bloody. He stepped back as the dwarf drove a fist to empty air where his chest was. Another low kick to the knee.

The crowd roared with dismay. Booing at the times he dodged or escaped a hold that would have resulted his face caving in the moment he stopped paying attention.

"Fight on you fucking stablehand!" someone spat on his feet. He did not care.

"End it! End it! End it" the chants blared across the tavern hall.

"Come on stinker, you can do it!" roared someone... Eder?

Spurred on by the crowds, Sweynur charged, all composure lost in the face of wild emotion.

All in.

In that split second of fight and flight, focus bore him clarity enough to kick out! His hands grasped the dwarf's head and raised arm and going with the forward momentum, the cipher twisted his entire body to the side.

He was going for Tripping the Boar, but he was too late to avoid getting caught. Still, all those kicks to the dwarf's left knee finally paid off as the dwarf toppled over from the sudden wrenching of motion and with him fell the cipher. The force of Sweynur's charge propelled them both in a roll as they tumbled unto the grimy tavern floor.

Acalan was tired, muscles protesting their maltreatment and blood poured out through the cuts of his chest and face.

But his mind was ready for one last gamble.

His cipher probes may be blunt as a marble at this time, but if his target was mentally incapacitated... Sweynur will think of it as yet another jab to the head among other things in the haze of a fighting rage.

The brief contact was enough as Acalan's readied probes scoured through the dwarf's maddened mind- like hot knife on butter with a mental equivalent of a gale. The fight had brought the farmer's most traumatizing memories on the forefront and it took not a heartbeat for the cipher to know which ones to use.

The struggle went on for a few heartbeats, timed just enough for the bullish dwarf to listen, albeit lucidly.

A whisper close to his ear. The bustle of legs and crowd rabble masking his words for all except the two.

"Sweet, sweet Leanne, in a deep, deep well her mother never sought to look." the words rasped their way into dwarven ears.

The dwarf paled "H-h-ow do... Wha-." He sputtered, choked on his own words. That lapse of attention allowed the cipher a stranglehold on to the dwarf's thick neck.

"The elf this one order you to stay away? Well..."

He enforced his demands and threat in dark quiet words. Oh the dwarf still struggled all the same, but his will broke before his body could bear him in the end.

A proper blackmail at the right time to deliver them does wonders.

He will have his uses soon enough. The thought lingers as the cipher rose from the filth.

Bloody and bruised, but victorious. Eder hands him a restorative potion. The stuff was vile but in a few moments had helped sealed his wounds. The ache however was still persistent.

The farmers were not cheering as they picked up the fallen dwarf. While they thought their champion was in shock because of his loss, in truth the latter was too caught up in the cipher's words to even consider his defeat. They carted him off and out of the tavern.

In the crowd, a man talks to another, murmuring in approval at the show before departing out through the door and into the midday sun.

"Thank you. You really shouldn't have done that for me." The Aedyran mage shyly approached him just as Eder's new found friend- the inn's dog leapt up to lick his chest.

"This one's friend, is also a friend." the cipher wheezed rubbing Blackie's furred head.

"You really should knock off the old 'this one' habit to refer yourself. You said it yourself; we're friends, no need to be so formal about it. Other than that, your Aedyran is passable." smiled the elf.

"Apologies, this- I- it's an old habit. Aedyran structures strangely at times."

Calisca barks a laugh as she handed the cipher his gear. "Give it up Aloth, Gods know I've asked him about that too."

"Forgive me if I want to know more about my new brother in arms."

"And it does spark my curiosity nonetheless, where did you learn to fight like that?" Aloth noted as the Ixamitl donned his leathers. He did not miss how his pale eyes raked his toned flesh, the almost minute motions of his eyebrows twitching.

Acalan shrugged.

"Teacher was good. Very good."

"I assume of Nalpasca lineage?"

Acalan grins.

* * *

"Is he our contact sent by the Key?" Aloth mutters as he paced across his room. He does not have any of the identifying marks, nor the scars relayed to him by their anonymous benefactor. Night had fallen and the group had split for the night after solving some of the pressing problems that once hounded the village.

He'd never heard of a watcher among the cell he served. His thoughts turned to the way the Ixamitl man glared at the tree as he spoke to the ether, or in deep beneath the bowels of the Temple of Eothas.

_I dinnae think so. Ye got it from Eder that Acalan's not with the Key that night in Cilant Lis yeah?"_

There's a strange quality to Iselmyr's voice within Aloth's head.

_"'Though hyl'thinks that Acalan is rather mighty fine... A wee lass such as I, ken see this agreement to be quite the catch. 'Tis a shame only Eder conne of me."_

Aloth hisses._ "_Iselmyr! You know your penchant for trouble gets us the good graces of the village. Or maybe you're just trying to get to Eder through them."

Iselmyr flashes him a mental equivalent of a raspberry "_Yer a ninnying arse of a lad Aloth! If ye dinnae stand fer yerself, a fine lass 'r lad such as Eder 'll walk on by."_

"It's good enough that he respects our privacy of the matter. Unlike a certain somebody..."

Iselmyr rolls Aloth's eyes.

"Will you just stop it! How many times have I told you, this is not the Empire!" His right index was pressed against his head as he faced the cracked mirror. "If too many people suspect that there's something other than grain addled brains up here, someone's going to _prod_ a copper spike up-"

A raven cawed its way into the room from the open window.

On its foot lay a sealed envelope. This was it!

* * *

Sitting on a forgotten roof of a gutted house just a stone's throw away, was a sober dwarf wearily watching Aloth's window. A large wooden tankard of cheapened ale in his large hands.

He was to stay there and watch the windows till the midnight hour. A simple request if not for the thought of Raedric's guards breathing down his neck.

Sweynur rubbed his eyes. Torchlights from below and the candlelight of the open window only confirmed the dwarf's sight.

He thinks how none of the corpse ravens have willingly occupied housed buildings before.

Even more so at this hour.

Half an hour later he could hear the raven caw out from the window as it sailed out into the starry sky.

What does that mean? A shiver ran down the stout dwarf's spine.

None of his damned business.

Let that fucking horsefucker figure it out.

* * *

On the road past the last fields of blighted grain, a troupe of Kind Wayfarer Paladins made the last stretch of march to the outskirts of Gilded Vale.

A cheer arose from their charges' tired throats; a motley band of villagers and merchants huddled together in a circle of men, horses, and carriages. They have been marching along the southern roads as part of the vital network of trade and transportation among the numerous villages that dot the Dyrwood.

Unlike the more private Caravans that boast the prestige and pomp depending on the masters at its helm, the Kind Wayfarer troupes were funded by their Order and the good graces of the Palatinate. The years that have passed since the wars have dealt them a hard blow in terms of their coffers and manpower; owing only the bare minimum of comfort and privacy among their charges.

Still duty spurred the Paladins onward.

One particular traveller raised a lute from the folds of her cloak and began to sing. Pale silver hair and soft violet eyes peered from the darkness of her hood. Glamfellen was she- pale elf of the White that Wends.

Gathered ethereal wisps gathered around her carriage as her voice echoed in the darkness.

"The sea beheld her love.."

The women of the group echoed her voice as the elf's deft fingers plucked the lute strings.

"Shining bright from on high.."

Soon enough, the men joined in, their voices a rough cadence along with the march of boots and wheels. It was originally sung almost as an eulogy of sorts. Over the years however, the traveling Ondra's Giftbearers had spun new harmonies to create a marching version of the song. Buoyed by clear, sonorous sound; the group found new strength as they inexorably march ever closer to the soft glow of the Vale ahead.

"She bade him come down  
From his palace in the sky"

Whatever lies ahead, Eira's mind is of her lost father. One who taught her the songs she now sings.

One who left her in the Land- the White that Wends to live with that hated clan.

He promised to return, to bring her with him on his adventures. He never did come back.

The last she has heard of him was of a place:

Caed Nua.

* * *

Bonus:

"What are you doing?" Calisca felt the cipher reaching in her head. The sensation was akin to have someone else's hair brush past your scalp.

They were outside Aufra's house, Acalan was fixing the washed leathers of his armor. While she stood next to a stump of a tree, her longaxe ready to split the block of wood before her. The morning sun a warmed her toned limbs, warding them from the early morning's chilly wind that rumpled her bliaut.

Acalan cursed before answering. "Poking your head."

To Calisca it was disconcerting that the cipher had been able to do this all without her notice during their time in Odema's Caravan. If there's one good thing about the thing in Cilant Lis, it was this.

"Stop it."

"Come on, I need to practice on someone."

She waves a free hand off. "Yeah, yeah, your powers are shuttered. But for Wael's godsdamned testicles, practice it on Goldie! Gods! It's like having a pet fampyr asking to let them feed on you."

"Who in the bloody wheel is Goldie?"

"Tall, blonde, bright and hairy. A steadfast guy that follows you around." A swift song of the axeblade sang in the air to herald yet another pair of firewood for the pile beside her.

Acalan's brows furrowed. "A dog?"

"No!" But Calisca lets out a bright laugh. She sets her axe down in mirth as she sat on the stump.

"You're close though Snips. Close."

Another probe pokes at her mind. The force of it making her stand straight up.

"Damn it, Snips!"

* * *

Notes-

Vailian:

_Postenago- Carrot (idiot[male])  
Merla- Fuck!_

Other than Aim Spirente, The Sea Beheld Her Love, are two of my favourite songs in the Pillars of Eternity series. I've always wondered the pale elves in the story, thought it'd be interesting to have as a companion during the campaign. Poor Aloth, formal Aedyran flies in the face of the Dyrwoodan backwaters.

Also in other news, group dynamics are being fleshed as you can see. People don't just bleed their secrets to whoever, whenever. Acalan suspects Aloth, dislikes Eder, grudginly trusts Calisca; Aloth suspects Acalan (for the wrong reasons) is friends with Eder and Calisca; Eder tries his best to keep the peace while being more chummy with both Aloth and Calisca; while Calisca plays along with everybody (though she has a deal with Acalan that isn't shown explicitly here)- that may change things down the line.

And now there's sweet Eira looking for her long lost father/mentor suspected to be in the ruins of Caed Nua.

Hmmm...


End file.
